


Give Me Attention and I'll Give You Myself

by CalamityRondo



Series: Attention Whore [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Bachelor Party, Barebacking, Drunk!Louis, Face-Sitting, Lots of alcohol, M/M, One Night Stand, PWP, Rimming, Top!Harry, Unsafe Sex, Weddings, bottom!Louis, drunk!Harry, larry stylinson - Freeform, mentioned Elounor and Harry/Taylor, seriously this is like basically porn, with a little freaking at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:17:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityRondo/pseuds/CalamityRondo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis gets drunk off his ass at Harry's bachelor party, and being the little attention whore he is, he would just about do anything to get attention. How that leads to him riding Harry's face is lost in his alcohol induced haze, but he is not one to complain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me Attention and I'll Give You Myself

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to emphasize that I do not support unsafe sex in any form. The amount of alcohol in this fic explains the lack of rational thought, but that's no excuse. Please do no be as stupid as the two boys in this fic and always stay safe! :)
> 
> I hope you can bear with the slightly rushed/slurred writing style I used, but I thought it fitting for the state of mind Louis and Harry are in.

Louis has no idea how he got himself to this point, the point where his fuzzy head pounds with the beat of the too loud music, his hips swaying in the same rhythm as he dances on the table, giggling madly and being spurred on by the voices around him who wolf-whistle at him and cheer. There are hands grabbing at him, touching his legs, and occasionally his bum when he bends his legs enough for someone to reach. He remembers the beginning of the evening, having a beer or two, or maybe even three, but everything after that and the amount of different drinks he had until then is lost in his intoxicated state, and Louis can't say that he minds.

He enjoys himself just like he should, this is a bachelor party after all. His friend from school, Harry Styles, is getting married to that strawberry blonde girl, Taylor, who looks like a doll to Louis, but he is happy, because an old friend of his is getting married and is happy, and Louis is happy too, because he is always happy, when Harry is happy. It's the first time the five of them, Harry alongside Louis and Zayn, Niall and Liam, who used to hang out at school together all the time are reunited after graduating. It makes Louis even more happy, because he has missed the lads, so he shakes his hips harder, because it's what he does when he is drunk and happy. And Louis is almost always happy when he is drunk, because he is a happy drunk, but the circumstances just make this all the more enjoyable.

Harry has rented a small club for this party, so the only people here to see him are the guests, and it makes Louis completely loose every ounce of self-consciousness he might have. He would dance around clad only in his boxers, if people asked him to, which they might have done already, but not everything that is said to him registers in his brain. He rolls his hips, reveling in the knowledge that people stare at his glorious ass he has squeezed into the tightest pair of jeans he could find. He doesn't know why he has done that, but when he was dressing that morning there was logic in his thoughts, so he has to have a reason for wearing those.

Someone climbs on the table, and Louis doesn't mind sharing the space, especially when the person places his hands on his hips and they move in sync, and Louis has someone to grind onto. He winds his arms around the neck of the other and had no shame when he moans breathlessly at the friction.

“Shit, Lou, you are so far gone”, a voice laughs lowly, and somehow Louis recognizes it as Zayn's, and that just makes him grind on Zayn's thigh harder, because he is dancing with Zayn Malik of all people, the guy who had never danced at parties back at school, because he was too shy and didn't know how.

“No, M'right here”, he slurs, grinning. As if to emphasize, he pushes up against the tanned boy, showing him just how not gone he was.

“Yeah, right”, Zayn breathes, and Louis thinks he sounds filthy, like Louis is wrapping his legs around Zayn's waist and grinding down on his dick, he isn't though, but he very much likes how Zayn sounds like it nonetheless.

A loud voice, ringing through the room even over the booming music, makes Zayn stop, though. The boy looks in the direction of the voice, but Louis is having none of that and just continues dancing.

“No strippers? What do you mean there are no strippers here? Harry, you need to have strippers at your stag party!”

It's Niall, Louis can recognize his voice even when stupidly drunk, the Irish accent never having completely vanished, and Louis grins, because Niall has always made him grin, especially when he has laughed even his worst attempt at being funny.

“Yeah, M'sorry”, Harry mumbles, looking sheepish, and Louis has no idea how he has heard his low murmur over the loud, steady beat of the music, and maybe he hasn't, but from the look on the brunet's face he could probably tell what he has said.

Niall makes a face and stomps over to the table where Zayn and Louis have been dancing, whining to the darker boy, because that's what he always does whining to Zayn like he could make anything better.

“Zayn! Harry hasn't hired any strippers.” There is an adorable pout on Niall's face and Louis mimics it without noticing. “But he _needs_ to have strippers at his party, right? Right?”

Disentangling himself from Louis, Zayn pats Niall's hair. Louis whines at the loss of contact, the pout still on his lips, but he is ignored what only makes him whine louder. Someone pets his bum, and he is thankful that at least someone appreciates him.

“Hey, guys!”, Zayn shouts out across the room, one hand cupped around his mouth as if that could make him louder. “Harry really needs a lap dance, like, right now! Who's up for it?!”

Louis really want the attention back. He still likes being in the spotlight, and even though this is Harry's night, he can't stand it when no one pays attention to him. So he raises his fist, shaking it triumphantly, and shouts: “I'm doing it!”

The alcohol in his system doesn't let him remember what he has just agreed to, but it's not like there is anything he wouldn't do, even sticking his own head into the toilet seems like a funny enough choice at this moment. He doesn't want to stop dancing, though, and it doesn't seem like he has to, because people are carrying Harry sitting on a chair over and set the chair on the table Louis is still standing on.

Cheers erupt around them, louder than before, and Louis just drinks them in and wants this night to go on forever. Harry looks at him, and his smile clearly shows how plastered he is, but that's a good thing, because at a bachelor party that's like unwritten law.

The music still beats loudly in Louis ears and he starts swaying to the rhythm again and before he knows it he is slowly shedding his clothes, wriggling out of them seductively, because that's what you do when someone sits on a chair before you, looking at you expectantly, right? It's at least what Louis does, and the rather large crowd around the table encourages him, and soon he is dancing only in his boxers, showing off his body to everyone.

He catches Harry licking his lips when he looks at him, so he can't help but inch closer to him, moving his body in front of Harry in what he thinks is the sexiest way he can muster. And then he is practically sitting on Harry's lap, circulating his hips and grinding down on his crotch. The shouts of encouragement get louder, and Louis is eager to please the crowd, so he twists his body this way and that, hoping he looks as sexy as he feels. Harry's hands are on his body, touching and caressing him, his hands are hot and Louis moans when they grab tightly at Louis' waist.

* * *

The next time his consciousness jerks awake, he is sitting on his knees on a hotel bed, riding someone's face, a steady stream of filthy moans falling from his lips as a tongue travels from the soft spot behind his balls to his hole, licking along the rim. He is totally lost as to how he got here, but he is being pleasured, so he can't exactly say he minds all that much.

“You like that, don't you?”, a low voice grumbles from beneath him, and Louis chokes a little on his moans, because that's Harry's voice, he is riding Harry's face, that realization making his already hard cock throb.

“Fuck yeah”, he answers brokenly. Harry rewards him with the wet push of his tongue against his hole, pushing his slick muscle in, and Louis wants to scream in pleasure, although he is only breached by the pointed tip. A litany of curses leave his mouth as Harry pushes in deeper, making his tight walls quiver. He has never been rimmed before, but he kind of regrets it, now that he knows how fucking good it feels.

Harry is thrusting his tongue in and out of him with fervor, licking along his walls when he is in as deep as possible, and Louis shamelessly grinds down on his face. His hands clench tightly at the headboard of the bed as Harry fucks him with his tongue. Louis has no idea whether the fuzzy feeling in his head comes from the alcohol or from the absolute pleasure Harry is giving him, it's probably both. He hears the curly haired man breath harshly and he wonders if maybe he is suffocating him, but he can't let up, he needs more, more pleasure and _moremoremore_.

“Harry..”, he whines and tugs lightly at the curls between his thighs. Harry just takes that as a sign to move faster, making Louis go absolutely crazy, but it's just not enough. He doesn't know what he asks for, but he needs something, _anything_ more than the slick tongue. “Harry..”, he moans needily again, and this time Harry pulls out, Louis immediately regretting it, because now he just feels empty and that's wrong.

“What's wrong, love?”, Harry asks, and neither are bothered by the use of the pet name.

“I need you.” The words come out of Louis' mouths like he has said them a million times before, and maybe they have, but he can't remember if they have done this before. He can't even remember if he had a life before this, everything his world is narrowed down to is Harry.

“Fuck”, Harry curses, and Louis finds himself thrown off to the side, Harry being above him in the blink of an eye. Their gazes lock, and Louis finds himself unable to think of anything else than that that beautiful face has been eating him out just seconds ago. But then Harry spreads his legs and begins to rut against him and Louis throws his head back and moans like a porn star, although all they do is rub their cocks together. But the friction on his neglected dick is heavenly. Louis digs his nails into Harry's shoulders, shouting his name filthily.

“Shit, babe, you're so hot”, Harry grunts out breathlessly. Louis heart stops a beat, when the taller lad reaches for something on the nightstand—obviously lube—he is going to be fucked, isn't he? Fucked into his tight little arsehole by Harry Styles, the same guy he had fooled around with in high school when they had both felt experimental. He bites his tongue to keep from groaning at that thought, because in that moment nothing appeared to him as wonderful as the prospect of getting fucked by his friend of old days.

Harry leans back, and Louis gets a good look at his big cock as Harry lubes himself up, and he can feel his mouth water, because that dick is beautiful, and it's so hard and red just for him. Louis loves the attention. He can't wait to be impaled with Harry's thick cock, is anxious for the uncomfortable stretch and burn and the heavenly drag against his inner walls. But when Harry turns his attention back to him, he grabs Louis' legs and puts both of them on one of his shoulders—and that's not what Louis has expected but he doesn't argue—and begins to slowly push his hips forward. And it's only then that Louis realized that Harry is not pushing his dick into his barely stretched hole but between his tightly shut thighs.

He cries out in frustration, because the sensation is great, but it's not really doing anything for him. Sure, Harry brushes against his cock with his own as he fucks Louis' thighs, but it's still not enough, and Louis is so desperate for Harry's cock that he thinks he might melt or explode or just dissolve if he doesn't get it right now. Harry, though, just presses his legs shut tighter, lowly grunting at the lovely feeling of Louis' smooth skin sliding along his sensitive member.

“Harry.. Haz.. Hazza.. Please”, he begs. He is close to actual tears now. His cock throbs painfully, telling him he needs relief now, but Harry is not giving him anything.

“Shh, love, I'm trying to work.”

Harry tries to make his grunts soothing, but Louis just huffs in annoyance, clawing with his nails at Harry's thighs, 'cause they're the only thing he can reach. He is so lost in his self-pity that he doesn't notice the hand Harry snakes between them. But then a slick finger is pushed quickly into his hole and this time Louis really does cry out. There's finally something inside of him. It has been months since he had anything other than his own fingers, so Harry's big finger feels like the greatest thing Louis has ever experienced.

He bucks his hips down, fucking himself eagerly on the single digit.

“Shit! Aren't you eager for it?”, Harry breathes out.

“Yes. God yes. Harry, more.. _please_!”

Thankfully, this time Harry complies immediately and shoves two fingers in. Louis clenches around them, loving the feeling of something inside of him and wanting them to go so much deeper, wants to be split open by Harry. The taller lad scissors his fingers then and to Louis' surprise draws back his hips. He still stretches the hole open with his fingers, when he nudges the head of his dick against the entrance as well.

“Do you want that, Lou?”, he asks looking at the smaller man. “Do you want me to shove my cock inside of you so hard it will come out of your nose?”

Louis whimpers, because yes, he would very much like that, and bucks his hips, trying to push himself onto the length. He hates the sounds he makes, though, because he sounds like he has no self-control whatsoever, and who is he kidding, he doesn't, and only wants Harry to bloody fuck him into oblivion right this second, but he still likes to think he could control this, could steer the direction this situation is heading in.

His thoughts are cut short immediately when Harry indeed begins to push in, next to his fingers which are still tucked into Louis' hole, and the older lad moans in satisfaction as he is breached by something this large. It burns, but he likes the pain, takes it like the little cockslut he secretly is. When Harry's dick is halfway up his ass, he draws his fingers back, and Louis momentarily clenches down on the girth, his hole greedily sucking Harry in.

Louis' legs fall open, his knees on both of Harry's shoulders now, but he can't hold them there long with all the sweat their bodies are drenched in, so they slide down Harry's muscular arms, opening up in the process, and Harry groans at the absolutely filthy image that his Louis Tomlinson. He can't hold back anymore, snapping his hips forward to bury himself to the hilt in the tight heat that clings to his cock. Louis cries his name as his prostate is hit forcefully, and he curls in on himself at the sparks that shoot through all of his body.

They set a quick rhythm, both to desperate and needy now to start with slow, deep thrusts. Harry's hips snap back and forth, his dick pumping in and out of Louis' tight little hole in quick, hard thrusts, making both of them moan until their voices are hoarse and their throats dry as parchment. Louis still digs his fingers into Harry's thigh, and he is almost sure the other lad doesn't even notice that because he is too focused on his cock, and Louis can't blame him. Harry's left hand is gripping Louis' hip, surely leaving bruises there, and the right grips Louis' shoulder to easily pull him against himself to meet his thrusts.

The room is spinning with pleasure and hotness, and Louis only hears their skin slapping against each other and their broken moans bounce of the walls. He is sure there are only two people in the world right now—him and Harry—nobody else, and this will go on forever, Harry pounding relentlessly into his prostate and Louis crying with the pleasure of it all.

“Fuck, Lou, I'm so close!”, Harry grunts.

Louis' cock is still bobbing with every thrust and is neglected, but Louis doesn't have enough power in him to raise his arm and take care of it. His limbs feel like jelly, so he just takes it, and then the tight coil in his stomach kind of explodes and Louis arches gracefully of the bed, spurting long stripes of cum over his belly and chest without being touched at all. His hole clenches down on Harry forcefully, and the curly haired boy bites his lips hard as he pushes into Louis' small body as deep as he can to fill him with his own seed.

They collapse in a panting heap on each other and the worlds starts to spin, and Louis knows it's not the pleasure this time but the alcohol putting a warm, fuzzy blanket over him.

* * *

He wakes with a sharp throb in his head, groans and touches a hand to his forehead lightly. Sunlight is streaming through the window and it's entirely to bright for Louis' liking in his hangover state. He squints his eyes at the room, registering that he is in a hotel room—most likely the one he had booked to stay in for the wedding—and he is in bed, but the second body the one that is spooned around him shouldn't be there. Eleanor is supposed to arrive today—she couldn't make it earlier—so Louis should be alone in bed. But there is definitely a body there, a body that is most definitely not Elenour judging by the size and feel and the muscular arm that his draped over his waist.

Louis notices the state he is in, naked with dried cum on his chest and—as he moves his legs slightly—between his ass cheeks, and there is no doubt pain in his backside, and _fuck_ he has had sex. With a guy. That thought has him sit up immediately, staring at the person sleeping peacefully behind him and _fucking shit_ , it's Harry. Harry Styles. The guy that is getting married today, and whose reception Louis is attending together with his girlfriend, Eleanor, who has no idea Louis actually loves cock.

He feels like throwing up, because this is a sick joke, and because the sudden movement of sitting up has his stomach churning. He feels like crap, but he has no idea what is worse, the hangover or the guilt he feels for sleeping with Harry Styles. Why the fuck has he done that? Sure, Harry and he have had kind of an episode back in school when they both were experimenting, they have kissed and gotten each other off quite a lot back then, and Harry was still ridiculously fit and handsome and _hot_ and—Louis groans quietly because he should not be thinking along those lines.

He needs to get away from here. Maybe he is lucky and Harry has been so smashed the day before that he won't remember anything beside crashing at Louis' hotel room. But he can't risk Harry waking up next to a naked Louis, that would be too obvious. So Louis scrambles off the bed and searches for his clothes, not caring that they are the ones from the day before, and pulls them on. He really needs to put distance between Harry and himself right now, because he may have very well fucked up the wedding of the guy he has once considered his very best friend. And he can't hang around longer, because old feelings are starting to creep up on him, and he can't have any of that, that's long over, and Harry is getting fucking married to a girl today, and Louis has a girlfriend and he is not in love with Harry Styles anymore, but he just had to get smashed at his bachelor party and throw himself in the arms of the boy who made him realize what team he was batting for.

He blinks back tears and swallows around the huge lump in his throat. He has ruined lives, his own, Harry's and Taylor's. And he is a fucking idiot, and he hates himself for it. He doesn't even remember the intercourse, and that's not how he wants it to be, because it has been his first time with Harry and he wanted to remember that, but he is not allowed to.

Harry is still sleeping peacefully, snoring ever so lightly, and it makes Louis sick to his stomach. He can't stand it, can't stand what a monster he has made out of sweet, lovely Harry, so he turns and runs. He knows he won't be able to look Harry in the eyes after this, and it's all his own fault, and Harry will hate him, and Louis cannot bear it, if that happens.


End file.
